


(Im)Perfect Potter

by cubedcoffeecake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, M/M, Pining Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Captain Harry Potter, also applies by default i guess, harry and tom are both hogwarts students at the same time, just indulgent hogwarts era au, nerd Tom Riddle, no time travel or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 08:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cubedcoffeecake/pseuds/cubedcoffeecake
Summary: After hearing Abraxas' cousin go on and on and on about "Harry Potter," Tom decides to seek him out and see what the fuss is all about.





	(Im)Perfect Potter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AkaShika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaShika/gifts).



> This is a gift to the WONDERFUL AkaShika. She is one of our pinch hitters who swept in and took up the gauntlet when someone had to step down from the exchange. Hope you like this, and another huge thank you!
> 
> Thanks also to tsundanire for the fantastic beta, and keyflight790 for coming up w the title!!

“It wasn’t even reserved! But perfect Potter acts as if the Gryffindors have exclusive rights to it! The Quidditch pitch is for  _ everyone _ ! But no, they come in and chase everyone out—”

Abraxas glanced despairingly in Tom’s direction, but Tom ignored him. Draco wasn’t  _ his _ annoying cousin, thank you kindly. He wasn’t going to get involved in that. He had an essay on heather root bypassing to research for.

“They chased off all the younger years who were out practicing their flying! It’s preposterous! How bloody selfish—“

“Draco, when did you begin giving a damn about younger years?” Abraxas asked with a sigh.

“It’s not about the  _ younger years _ , it’s about the  _ principle _ ! Potter—”

“How is this even Potter’s fault? I thought you said McGonagall was to blame, for granting them permissions with so little notice,” Abraxas snapped. Tom glanced over at the two as Abraxas stood up abruptly, letting his chair fall over with a crash.

”All right, Draco! He’s attractive, he’s popular, you want to fuck him and he doesn’t even want to be  _ friends _ with  _ you _ !”

Tom was terribly glad they were in the sixth year’s dorm instead of the common room. If everyone were watching this Tom would have to either cut off Abraxas’ friendship or do damage control—neither of which were desirable outcomes.

“But I don’t want to hear about it. If you can’t handle your overwhelming love for ‘bloody Potter,’ complain about it to someone else.” Abraxas spun around in a flurry of robes and strode out of the room.

All was silent for a moment before Lestrange poked his head out of his bed curtains, wide-eyed, and Draco reacted by running off to the lavatory while trying to conceal the tears welling up in his eyes.

In all fairness, Tom was a bit stunned as well. He slowly closed his herbology book. For all of his genius, it mostly applied to gathering, understanding, and utilizing hard facts. People’s emotions sometimes threw him off.

For example—how had he missed the fact that Draco had a crush on a Gryffindor? That was prime blackmail material, and he hadn’t suspected a thing. Frustrated, Tom tossed his quill back into his bag.

_ Harry Potter. _

Tom had heard a surprising amount about him for never having met him. There was no real reason for the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain to be anywhere Tom frequented, but most of his roommates ran into him someplace or another. Draco played Quidditch against him; Rodolphus was in several classes with him; Abraxas knew him from the occasional Ministry gala big enough for even the Potters to attend.

Within the school, however, Potter kept to his small circle of friends from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, the occasional Hufflepuff acquaintance tagging along. They played Quidditch, skimmed by on their studies, and wreaked enough havoc to have permanent, biweekly detentions.

The individuals Tom surrounded himself with were far calmer. And wiser. No one Tom associated with had  _ ever _ gotten detention—except Draco, of course, by way of his obsession with Gryffindors. No, Tom’s friend group was rich, intelligent, and powerful; future-driven, mature, and accomplished. Everything this Harry Potter didn’t sound to be.

Still, despite how useless seeking out Potter seemed to be, Tom heard about him near constantly. He might as well get a face to go with the name.

Potter should be heading inside from the pitch soon. Tom would just have to intercept him on the way to Gryffindor’s Tower.

* * *

Harry breathed in deeply and relished the feeling of crisp, cold air filling his lungs. He breathed it back out feeling lighter, an added bounce to his step as he headed toward the tower, broom over his shoulder. The columns and arches of Hogwarts’ wall loomed above him as Harry approached them and passed through. There were throngs of students outside enjoying the lovely weather, and many of them called out to Harry as he went by. He only smiled and waved a bit in return, though. He’d gotten used to having more people recognize him than just those he knew.

Inside the castle, Harry took the staircase that led up to the third floor before stepping out of the stairwell and going down a hall to reach the set of stairs that would bring him to the painting of the Fat Lady.

It is here that it happened.

Minding his own business, Harry just walks on through the hallway when suddenly his eye catches on the handsomest man he’s ever bloody seen. He’d been looking at the floor, and first spotted the well-worn, yet meticulously polished, black oxfords. His gaze traveled up plain wool socks to standard uniform slacks that hid impossibly long legs. He carefully skipped over the slight bulge in the other’s pants and let his eyes linger instead on the gorgeously sculpted forearms his sleeves were rolled up to show. Next came strong shoulders, a moment too long staring at his pale neck, and then… his face. Cheekbones, inhumanely clear skin, piercing brown eyes, dark wavy hair that looked so soft, and his lips had just a tinge of pink to them—

As the angel of Harry’s dreams watched, Harry dropped his broom, tripped over it, and broke his nose on the floor.

* * *

What a waste of an hour. He’d gone all the way up to the third bleeding floor, just to discover Harry Potter was a fucking mess. He had to drag the little fuck all the way to the Medical Wing. Potter kept clutching at his nose as if that would keep the blood from pouring out of it, and when Tom pulled off his shirt and thrust it at Potter to use as bandaging, the git began struggling to walk so badly Tom feared he may be concussed.

Finally, Tom had done his civil duty. He rushed back to his dorm, shuddering at all the ways he could’ve better spent that time.

Draco was sitting on his bed when Tom got back, despondently poking through his potions book. Tom took a seat on his own bed across the way and looked at Draco for a moment, considering. It wouldn’t necessarily gain him anything… but it would life Draco’s spirits a great deal. A despondent Draco was likely even more frustrating than a normal Draco.

Mind made up, Tom cleared his throat.

“Draco, you will  _ never _ believe what I just saw Harry Potter do.”


End file.
